And then, we get ripped apart by all the patrons following us into the bar area.
“Macey!” Mama calls to me. “Can you help me find your father? I’ve lost him in the crowd.”
I turn to Logan. “I’ll meet you at our table shortly. It’s the one in the front.”
* * *
Logan
Within a half-hour, all the tables in the saloon are filled with Derby riders and their dates. The only empty table is the one at the front of the room, just to the left of the bar.
Why is it still empty? I only need to scan a few feet to the right to find Macey in a heated argument with her father. She’s standing with her back to the bar flap, clearly not giving him permission to enter.
No surprise there. My heart aches for Macey as she stands toe to toe with her daddy, hands on her hips.
But another part of my body is reacting, too. Because seeing Macey in that corset is my undoing. The thin blue fabric squeezes her breasts so tightly they’re nearly popping out of the dress. As hot as it looks, I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable to wear, and the thought of taking it off of her later—
I adjust my pants, hoping to ease the ache in my groin. This suit jacket isn’t long enough to cover up anything going on below the belt.
Maybe I can go sit down. But before I move—
Macey turns in my direction.
Our eyes lock, and hers light up.
“Mr. Darcy,” she says as she walks up to me and hands me my favorite drink of grape juice and whiskey, the one she’s dubbed a Loganiskey on The Cowherd menu. “Welcome to my family bar. That green tie brings out the flecks in your eyes.”
I take the drink from her, and then I grin and bring her hand to my mouth. “Mrs. Darcy.” I give her hand a quick kiss and rub my thumb over the top of her hand gently. I take special care to trace her ruby ring. “That blue dress really shows you off. Makes me want to disappear with you into the back room right now.”
Macey visibly shivers.
Her father beckons to me. “Come sit up here at the table of honor, Logan. Baby, you sit down, too. You’re not working tonight. Your meal will be ready shortly.”
“But Daddy…”
He points to George, the bar’s server who’s also a former rock guitar player with a long gray ponytail, standing behind the bar. “George will take all the drink orders,” he promises. “I’m just here to greet guests. Your mama will be my sober companion for the evening.”
On cue, Macey’s mother appears by his side. “Only sweet tea for both of us,” she says to Macey. “Now, go have some fun, for goodness sake!”
I take Macey by the hand, and she reluctantly follows me to our table. The chairs are placed across from one another.
Well, that won’t do. I drag my chair until it’s adjacent to hers, and then I tip her chin with my thumb.
“Are you still okay with our plan?” I ask her.
She swallows. “Fake honeymoon for one night?”
I nod. “But more importantly, one night where you put all your worries and all of this real-life stuff”—I sweep my arm around the room, finishing my gesture pointed in the direction of her parents—“aside and just have some fun. Enjoy yourself. Put yourself first for once.”
Macey exhales deeply, and I watch the tension disappear from her expression. “Yes. Starting now, Mr. Darcy”—her eyes flash brightly as she licks her lips—“let’s only focus on us.”
I lift the glass of Loganiskey and raise it in her direction. “Sounds like a perfect plan.”
